A Hunt Gone Bad
by Shadowfax220
Summary: The title says it all One shot.


_Disclaimer: I don't own them… I just play with them!_

**A Hunt Gone Bad**

He opened his eyes slowly, pain crippling his ability to think. He was laying on his back in an over bright room. Several people surrounded him, one person was slowly methodically cutting away his clothing while another pressed down on his side causing more pain to envelope him. A constant and annoying beeping noise was coming from his left. He struggled and tried to sit up. Tried to get away but he was strapped down unable to move. It took him a full minute to realize he was in an emergency room and another to figure out that someone was speaking to him.

"Sir," said the nurse closest to his head. "We need you to calm down. Lie still so we can determine the extent of your injuries."

He tried to tell her he was fine but it came out as more of a groan then any coherent words. He did however stop struggling instead he tried to concentrate on his injuries the way he'd been taught.

A sharp penetrating pain in his abdomen told him he had been stabbed there. The burning along his left thigh indicated a deep scrape or slash. The swelling and pain in his left shoulder told him he probably dislocated it and his inability to focus along with the pounding in his head told him he'd taken a heavy blow to the head.

The head injury was probably the reason he couldn't remember what the hell had happened, where he was or what he'd been hunting. More importantly he had no idea where his family was. He tried to look around but his head was strapped down foam blocks preventing him from moving left or right. He tried to ask if he'd been brought in by himself but he couldn't.

A light was directed into each of his eyes one at a time. Someone said something about his eyes being non responsive. He felt a needle pressed into his arm as an I.V. was inserted.

The pressure was removed from his abdomen and he heard someone shout, "We've got a bleeder." It caused a flurry of movement in the room. His vision began to fade, slowly clouding from the sides until he drifted in a sea of darkness with only a very erratic beeping sound to keep him company. Just before he faded completely he heard someone yell, "We're losing him!"

* * *

He drifted into awareness again slowly, feeling like he was floating. He wanted to open his eyes by they seemed so heavy. He heard the murmur of voices, felt the now dull pain of his injuries but couldn't summon the energy to open his eyes. He tried to focus on the voices but the constant beeping was making it difficult to do. It took some time, minutes… or hours but finally he was able to focus enough to understand.

"Doctor," someone said. "We really need to speak with him. How long before we are able to do that?"

"Detective, I understand your predicament, but like I explained before. Until he regains consciousness… if he regains consciousness we will not know the extent of his head injury. He suffered a contusion on his brain which can cause anything from serious brain damage to mild memory loss. Put that together with the amount of blood he lost and… well we just won't know anything until he wakes up. We won't know how bad the damage actually is until he does."

"What about the girl that was brought in with him? Can I speak with her?"

"Yes, she's awake, and singing praises of this man. She claims he killed the thing that attacked her and saved her life. So, if you're looking to pin these murders on him I think you may be barking up the wrong tree."

"Doc," the man said. "I'm just looking for answers."

He tried again to open his eyes, becoming frustrated when he couldn't summon the energy for so simple a task a quiet moan of annoyance escaped his lips attracting the attention of the people in the room.

"Mr. Winchester, sir, can you open your eyes?"

What the hell did the idiot think he'd been trying to do for the past… God knows how long? He thought to himself. He continued to try until finally he was able to open them. He closed them again immediately the bright lights in the room causing his eyes to water.

"That's it," the doctor coaxed him. "Come on you can do it."

Great he thought now the fool was treating him like he was five. What was he going to do next offer him some candy if he'd comply?

He struggled harder and finally succeeded in getting his eyes to open again keeping them open this time. It took a few minutes to get them to focus on the blurred forms of the people in the room.

The doctor was smiling down at him. "Welcome back," he said.

He tried to speak but his mouth was too dry. A glass of water was held up so he could drink. Sipping with the straw the cool liquid helped more then he'd have thought. "What happened?" he asked as soon as he was able to get the question out. He was tired but there were answers he had to have.

"We were hoping you could tell us," the detective said. "What do you remember?"

Oh, yeah, he thought. Somehow he just didn't think this guy was going to understand about thecreature that had been attacking that girl."Someone was screaming," he lied easily. "I… I went to help." He reached up and made a show of touching his injured head. "I… I think it hit me in the head."

"Can you remember anything about your assailant Mr. Winchester?"

Oh yeah, he thought sarcastically it was large, hairy and had a hell of a bad attitude. That however was not something he could tell the cop so instead he made a show of struggling to remember. "I can't remember," he told the man before asking, "How long have I been here?"

"A little over two days," said the doctor. "You were in pretty bad shape when you arrived. In fact, we nearly lost you."

"Two days," he said shocked. He tried to sit up but found he was too weak. His struggles didn't do anything more then weaken him further.

"Sir," the doctor said putting a hand on his shoulder and easily holding him down. "You need to calm down."

Where were they? They should have been here by now unless they'd been hurt, or worse. He tried again to sit up he had to leave if they were hurt…

"Mr. Winchester, please," the doctor said holding him down now with both hands. "Detective, please ask a nurse to come in here."

"Get off me!" he growled at the doctor that was holding him down. "I need to leave."

The nurse came rushing in followed quickly by the detective. The doctor turned to the nurse while still holding down his patient. "I need 300mg of Phenobarbital, STAT."

He knew what the doctor had just ordered was a sedative. He could not let the doctor sedate him until he found out what happened to them. Adrenalin pumping he reached out with a right hook and hit the doctor. Before he could do anything more the detective was there and he was cuffed to the bed. "No!" he shouted.

He never saw the nurse enter and inject the drugs into his I.V. One minute he was struggling to get up and the next he was fading into sleep so fast he barely heard the detective ask the doctor, "What the hell was that?"

* * *

Someone was shaking him gently. "Come on Dad," said a familiar voice. "It's time to wake up."

"Dean, thank God!" he whispered opening his eyes. "Where's your brother?"

"I'm here Dad," Sam said from his other side.

A sigh of relief escaped him as he saw his thirteen year old son. "Good," he said. "Sammy, find me something to wear. Dean help me up, we need to get out of here."

The reply, when it came, was so unexpected he merely stared at his youngest son. "No," Sammy said quietly. "Dad, not yet."

"We just came to check on you and let you know we were alright," Dean explained to his shocked father. "We checked your medical chart. One more day here and you should be well enough to travel."

"Quit the bullshit dude," he sternly. "We need to leave."

"No we don't dad, we've got it covered. The girl's not going to say anything. I've spent the past two nights in her room with her," he said with a grin that made his father think that his seventeen year old son had enjoyed his time with the girl. "Now if you can keep from punching the doctor," he said wiggling the handcuff that still attached John's wrist to the bedrail. "I promise we'll be back tomorrow night to get you."

"Boy's," John said warningly.

Dean grinned at his father, "Not this time dad."

"Dad," Sammy said. "Please stay. I read your chart you have cerebral edema. The meds they are giving you through your I.V. are helping to decrease the swelling in your brain. You need them for at least another twenty four hours. Without them the swelling is just going to get worse and…" His young son's voice trailed off a look of concern on his face. "Please dad, it's just one more day."

John softened at the look on Sam's face. The boy was obviously very worried about him.

"Dad listen," Dean said earnestly. "Sam's right. You need to stay one more day. Sam and I are fine. We switched motels and no one knows we're related to you. Hell, they don't even know we've been in to see you for the past two nights. We'll be fine and you need the time here so just take it easy for one more day okay."

John looked at his son's. Dean was seventeen years old but he looked like he was over twenty it made things easier when it came to renting motel rooms. Especially with the fake I.D. he'd had made for the boy. He was also a very good hunter, and expert marksmen and a damn good medic. He was also an accomplished con artist, especially with the girls. John had no doubt about the abilities of his eldest son.

Sammy too was an extraordinary boy in his own way. He was so intelligent. At eleven he'd mastered Latin well enough to memorize several exorcism rituals. He was extremely adept at finding hunts and his research abilities were quickly outpacing his. He was a good shot, but not nearly as good with a gun as his brother. But with a knife… that boy was like Jim Bowie with a blade. His lanky form gave him added reach too making it more and more difficult to beat him when they were practicing. Sammy had grown nearly six inches this year and if he didn't slow down then he'd be taller then his brother in a year or two.

"Dad please," Sam said.

"Fine," John said glancing from one son to the other. He knew they were right, but that didn't mean he had to like it. "One more day."

Both his boys grinned causing a smile to crease his face too. "Now, get out of here and boys…," he told them. "Be careful."

John spent the following day getting as much rest as possible. He knew how bad it was going to be when he left the hospital because he knew how bad his injuries really were. His boys were right he needed the extra day. As the evening waned and darkness fell John slept to conserve his energy while he waited for his son's.

He woke when he heard Sam's excited voice. "See," Sam was saying. "I told you I could get them off without waking him!"

John opened his eyes to see Sam jingling the hand cuffs that had been around his wrist. Dean was laughing at his brother, "Sam you scare me sometimes you know that."

"Me too," John said quietly. "Good Job Sammy, I didn't even know you were there." And that scared the hell out of John. He should have known his boys were in the room even as hurt as he was and he certainly should have known when the cuffs were removed from his wrist.

"Here you go Dad," Dean said handing his father some clothes. "Get dressed. As soon as you're ready Sam's going to get you down to the car."

"What about you?"

Dean grinned. "I'm going to hang here at the nursing station and see if I can distract those beautiful ladies while you and Sam get the hell out of Dodge. I'll meet you down there in twenty minutes."

"It's not going to take twenty minutes for us to get down there Dean," John told his oldest son.

"I know," Dean said. "But there's like four ladies out there dad. It's going to take time to dazzle them all!"

"You've got ten minutes dude, then I want you down at the car," John said as he dressed.

"But dad…," Dean started to say.

"You heard me son, ten minutes."

Sam laughed at the disappointment on his brother's face. "Poor Dean," he teased. "So many girls… so little time."

"Shut up," Dean told his brother.

John finished getting dressed, "You boys ready?" he said.

"Yes sir," they said in unison.

"Then let's do this," he said.

Dean left the room, went to the nurses station and within a few minutes he had the nurses all facing away from his father's room laughing at what he'd just said. He watched as Sam helped their limping father make his way slowly down the hall. When he was sure his family had enough time to escape he excused himself and went down to the car to meet his father and brother.

John looked at his watch when Dean got into the drivers seat. "You're two minutes late," he said from the back seat where Sam had made him as comfortable as possible with blankets and pillows taken from the motel they'd left.

"Yeah," he replied. "I know. You ever have to get away from that many women without attracting too much attention to yourself?"

Sam's jaw dropped and he looked at his brother like he'd grown horns. Dean could have smacked himself. At least until his father started laughing from the back seat.

"Actually," he told his son. "Before I met your mother there was this one time just after basic training…"

"Dad!" both boys said together as the impala roared down the road onto the next town, the next fight.

John lay back on the pillows and smiled. All was as it should be, he was on the road again with his son's and they were safe… for now.

End –

**A/N – Here you go another short story that I had running around in my head for the past few weeks. Hope you like it! Thanks again for reading and please let me know by reviewing. **


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